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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575854">hate that you know me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe'>bobadeluxe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fortnite (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Self-cest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:35:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Riptide groans. He looks like he's in pain. Must've hit a sore spot.</p><p>"Is that what you think? I'm you from the future?"</p><p>Turk shrugs. "Seems plausible so far."</p><p>(The one where Turk meets the A.L.T.E.R to his E.G.O and it goes better than anyone would expect. Maybe you won't have to kill your doubles after all.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Riptide (Fortnite)/Turk (Fortnite)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another 'wrote this long ago was hoping to finish it first before posting' piece. Rating WILL change because this was intended to be a one-shot smut but I got carried away smh. </p><p>The 'Age difference' tag is there because Riptide is, well, old, and the fic mentions their age difference a bunch of time. However, since Fortnite doesn't have canon age for skins, I'm using mine. Turk is in his early thirties while Riptide is in his fourties. Perhaps not anything drastic, but better be safe than sorry.</p><p>The 'enemies' part in 'Enemies to Friends to Lovers' is quite short. It's just there because they are supposed to be from rival organizations, and they start off not on very good terms and in a iffy situation. Still, they never really hate each other or act maliciously, so I apologize if that's misleading.</p><p>Updates soon once I'm done with work!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"You've stopped struggling."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That voice – it's unmistakably his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roughened with age and smoke, unfamiliar in the way one would not recognize their voice from a recorder, but the accent and the drawl remain the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My name is Riptide. Come with me if you want to stay alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turk said those exact words to someone else once, hadn't he? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn't what clued him in though. Turk had no idea who this gentleman was, and his first thought definitely wasn't that they were the same person. It just downed upon him when 'Riptide' slung him over his shoulder like a bag of mush. Hanging upside down —  his face now at the same level as the older man's ass  — Turk notices an important detail. Riptide's pants would fall down every few seconds or so from all the running, which is when it would appear.. </span>
  <em>
    <span>there! </span>
  </em>
  <span>On his left cheek, right next to his ass crack, a fishing hook birthmark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, that's him alright. Turk is the only one he knows with that distinct birthmark. It's not exactly a common shape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Turk stops struggling, squirming, screaming, all the verbs starting with S. He figures that he couldn't be in any real danger if he's being kidnapped by </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You can't kill yourself in the past, right? That's suicide. Besides, if he were going to die, how would Riptide exist? Time travelling (if that's even what's going on) is.. confusing. Still, Turk doesn't see why he would hurt himself. If he's going to trust anyone, it has gotta be himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Turk replies sheepishly. He sounds so lame. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boyish </span>
  </em>
  <span>when compared to Riptide's gruff voice. "I'm starting to understand what's going on now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riptide scoffs, "You don't know the half of it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don't talk the rest of the way. Turk continues carrying him, running away and shooting from the hips at whoever gets in their way. Turk doesn't know who these white suits are, and he can't begin to even guess with how nauseated he is. Blood rushing downward to his head, making him feel light-headed, his vision filled with ass vertigo as he's carelessly swinged around at every toss and turn. He's going to be sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they arrive at their destination – some sort of shady military-looking base – Riptide tosses him down to the floor and Turk pukes </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Riptide steps away from the splash zone (so to speak) then looks down at him, unimpressed. His boots barely avoided the remains of Turk's lunch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodbye, tuna sandwich. You've served me well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have the constitution of a fawn," Riptide notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does he talk like that when he gets old? What the hell happened?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Heh," Turk wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Bad idea. Now his left glove smells like vomit. "Yeah, sorry man. That was a rough ride!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's only going to get rougher," Riptide says, sounding almost sympathetic as his expression softens somewhat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh," Turk looks up at him. "So are you gonna tell me what this is about or…?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riptide picks him up by the scruff of his neck. His strength is remarkable, but their heights are more or less the same so it's pretty awkward. He's half-picking, half-dragging Turk across the floor. Not a single word is uttered until he's thrown into a cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, what?!" By the time the reality of the situation hits him, it's already too late. The cell door slams into his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stay there," Riptides points at him. "Until we decide what to do with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh?!" Turk rattles the cell, shaking the metal bars with all of his might. "Hey! Come back! What the hell is going on?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riptide walks away. His pants fall down again, but seeing a glimpse of his bare cheek no longer brings Turk comfort.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Turk would describe himself as versatile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> way, mind you, but in the general way he approached life and the problems that inevitably arise. He doesn't do a lot of thinking ahead, it cramps his style. You can't plan for everything – especially getting kidnapped during an ambush by what looks like yourself from the future. At first he was exploring the island with his crew, and now he's stuck in a jail at god-knows-where. Well.. what can you do about it? Things happen. Let's just move forward and figure it out from here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So once he calms down from his mandatory freakout – it's good to get it out  – Turk takes stock of his surroundings. This place is hot, humid, and poorly lit. It gives off the suffocating, oppressive atmosphere of being underground, if not for the breeze that blows through. Too inconsistent and too gentle to offer Turk any relief, but still noticeable. He could taste salt in the air, and it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> his sweat. He checked. They must be near the ocean. A grotto, then – he would venture a guess. An artificial one too, judging by the  impressive infrastructure of this place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's hard to tell when you are stuck in a dank prison cell all day, but this must be their base of operation or something of that nature. They have a security protocol. Armed guards patrolling the parameter in shifts, and a huge array of sentry guns. Turk notices motion sensors and surveillance cameras too, and those are only the ones he can see from his cell. Turk thinks he's great and all, but these defense measures were not put in place for him. The henchmen barely give him any attention; he's not their priority. So they must be guarding something more important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heck, even this cell doesn't look like it gets much use. It is not equipped to retain a prisoner for a long period of time. There's nothing here but an iron bucket, and it wasn't put there until Turk told Riptide he needed to pee. It makes more sense for it to be a temporary cell for prisoners being transferred or.. something. Riptide did say </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> were going to decide what to do with him, didn't he? Turk thinks he's on the right track so far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be honest, being imprisoned isn't all that bad. Turk has been in a far worse living condition, and that was his choice! The majority of his work as an expert naturalist requires getting his hands dirty. He can't be afraid of 'roughing it up'. Eating off the floor and shitting into a bucket is something that Turk is intimately familiar with. The only thing that bothers him is the lack of company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really misses his crew. He hopes they are safe and faring well without him. They didn't expect to encounter anyone on Apollo, let alone hostile forces and (assumably) time travelers. Remedy will take care of everyone on his behalf, Turk knows, but he's worried about Rippley still! That squishy, adorable body of his could absorb a lot of impact, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>bullets</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Doubtful. Though maybe he should be worried for himself first. They at least have each other, Turk is stuck in a cell at the mercy of enemies unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's more bored than scared though. The henchmen wouldn't talk to him. There's nothing to entertain himself with. He already misses his fishing rod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when Riptide comes to his cell again, Turk tries to catch his attention. "Thanks for the food, man. Hey, by the way, how did we lose our eye?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That did the trick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riptide squints at Turk with his good eye,  his lips pressed together into a thin line. Unsure of how to answer Turk's question. Usually Riptide would leave right after feeding him, so Turk never got a good look at him. Now he does. Riptide looks.. well, like an older version of him. The same nose, the same lips, and the same eye. Though the key differences between them are so prominent that it would throw anyone off upon first inspection. Riptide's hair has gone completely gray, the beard, the brows, eyelashes and all. He grows out his facial hair, a fuller, bigger beard that creates an illusion of a different, more defined jawline. That BIG eyepatch is another distraction, as well as the disappearance of his signature beanie. His hair is shorter too, slicked back, with none of the scruffy, chill guy vibes Turk tries to put out. He looks more.. practical.  More mature, put together with age perhaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You'd think that the age difference would  set them apart, but not quite. Despite a headful of gray hair, Riptide doesn't look </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> old. His crow feet and laugh lines only appear when he frowns, which is unfortunate because he spends a lot of time frowning with his resting disappointed stepfather face. Yeah, that's the key difference between them — </span>
  <em>
    <span>Riptide looks miserable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And he isn't even the one being stuck inside a prison cell right now!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" Riptide finally manages to reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Turk nods, enthusiastic to finally get a conversation going. "'Cause we are the same person, right? When should I be prepared to go blind? Wait, can you even tell me? Would it mess with the timeline if I know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have no idea what you are talking about," Riptide groans. He looks like he's in pain. Must've hit a sore spot. "Is that what you think? I'm you from the future?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turk shrugs. "Seems plausible so far."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riptide rolls his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, if you aren't me then </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you?" No answer. "You can't just keep being vague like this forever."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I can and I just might." He is deadpan that it sounds serious, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, can you… not though," Turk suggests. "Like, just don't do that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another awkward pause. Man, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened to him? Did he acquire a huge stick up his ass when he turned fourty or.. whatever age Riptide is supposed to be? Turk is a bag of sunshine! This guy looks like he has been constipated since the  Reagan administration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What I can tell you," he clears his throat "is that you will be safe. Whatever we decide to do with you, I can give you my word that no harm will come to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll get to return to my crew?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure," Riptide says. "Eventually."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You never answered my other question, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The short answer is yes. I am you." Oh. Okay. "But.. no, not in the literal sense."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not you from the future. It's not quite as simple as 'you but older.' it's a lot more complicated than that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah but.. I'm going to be stuck here for a long time, right?" Turk asks. "I bet during these visits we are going to have plenty of time to get to know each other!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riptide scoffs. "Right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wow. What a fun guy to be around Turk cannot wait until his next visit.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To the surprise of everyone including probably Riptide himself, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>get to talk quite often. Riptide actually takes the time of his day away from.. whatever it is that he does here, and have a proper conversation with him. He puts Turk's food through the slot on the door, sits down opposite of him outside, legs crossed, and talks to Turk while he eats. Sometimes he stays longer even after Turk finishes his plate. It's.. nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe because they are the-same-person-but-not-really, Riptide knows being isolated is difficult for him. Well, it would be for most people, but for Turk – especially so. He can't be alone with his thoughts. Riptide either sympathises because he knows that feeling well or he just doesn't want his prisoner to lose their marbles. Either ways, he provides Turk with the much needed socialization, which he appreciates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Conversation flows with ease between them, since their interests are pretty much the same. They end up finishing each other's sentences, and repeating the same things a bunch of times. Though some of Riptide's opinions differ from Turk's, and he knows a few things better too. Comes with age, he supposed. It's good. They are similar enough to get along, but different enough that it doesn't feel like he's talking to himself. (Although he sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>is.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) Turk half expected that when Riptide sits down, the stick inside his ass would be driven deeper, causing him to be even more miserable to talk to. How glad he is to stand corrected! Riptide is actually pretty chill once he opens up. You just have to avoid the sensitive subjects, such as asking for literally any personal information ever. If you do, he defaults to his cryptic non-responses and you never get anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's frustrating sometimes. Turk has a feeling there's something more going on, and Riptide's reaction to his half-baked time traveling theory would attest to that. Yet he is nowhere near figuring out The Situation (as he's come to call it) because Riptide never provides anything useful. He only insists that Turk is wrong and it's more complicated than he could possibly comprehend (despite them having more than enough time to discuss it) so stop asking! If it isn't for the fear of driving away the only person here who would talk to him, Turk would already be fed up. As it is, he tries his best to stretch his patience until it's bubblegum thin. Hopefully it won't pop anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So," Turk speaks up between bites of his fish fingers. "I have a request and a question, which one do you wanna hear first?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Neither," Riptide says with a softness that betrays his deadpan humor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Aw, come on! Pretty please?" Turk activates his puppy eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fine, hit me with the question."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Works every time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are we still in touch with the crew? You know, Remedy, Rippley, Journey — "</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riptide holds up a hand and grimaces. "Stop."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"That quick?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Turk mumbles to himself, but relents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another one of their similarities is their appreciation for direct communication. It works best in Turk's experience; it's how he runs with his crew. So they came up with a safeword — although it's literally just 'stop' — to use whenever Turk pushes too far. The same applies to him as well, though so far Turk has been more inclined to share, and Riptide not at all. Turk feels that they owe him</span>
  <em>
    <span> some</span>
  </em>
  <span> explanation since he's literally being kept prisoner but, he wants to respect Riptide's boundaries. This time though, he didn't even finish his sentences!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry," Riptide sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, it's fine." It isn't as pressing a matter as other questions he should be asking. Which might exactly be why he chose to ask about it, and why Riptide's reaction is more than a little concerning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm just curious, you know? I haven't been with the crew long; this is our first expedition. So I figured you'd be the one to ask if this is a one-time thing. I really like them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You need to stop referring to us as 'We' and stop assuming that you are going to live the same life as I did," Riptide says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes. "Because we are two different people."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But we are not two different people," Turk intends to go on, but something about Riptide's gaze changes his mind. It's not just his nerves. "Okay. I get it. I won't push."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The names mean something to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riptide sighs, but this time it's with more relief, and less guilt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What about your request? I'll try to fulfill that one instead," he offers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Can I make it two, then? Since you didn't answer my question, Turk tries to negotiate. Might as well make the best out of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Depends on what they are," Riptide says with a shrug. "But I'll listen."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A shower would be nice. It's been a while, you know? Any sanitary products at all would be much appreciated!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Done."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turk blinks, "That's it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's reasonable enough, and you smell," Riptide teases. "I'll find you something. How about a change of clothes?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sweet!" Turk grins. It should be easy since they are the same size. "My second request is alcohol."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riptide raises one eyebrow, but says nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tequila or.. you know what, just some beers. Let's crack a cold one together; it'd be fun!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Duly noted." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turk laughs. "Aw, man. That means no."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It doesn't," Riptide tries to defend himself in a serious manner, but ends up laughing along with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His laugh is nice. He talks with his chest, his deep voice rumbling within, but he laughs with his whole belly. Kinda like Turk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talk about this and that, nothing major. Once he finishes eating, Riptide retrieves his plate and excuses himself 'back to work' with it. Turk is sad to see him go, but loves to watch him leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did he just check himself out?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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